


And It Was Better (No One Is Coming)

by h_nb



Series: Asher [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Creepy Whumper, Memories, Mild Dehumanization, Needles, Pet whump, Whump, Whumptober 2020, drugged, mild conditioning, resisting, sedatives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_nb/pseuds/h_nb
Summary: Whumptober Day Twenty Two
Series: Asher [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952164
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	And It Was Better (No One Is Coming)

_My name is Asher Duvall._

He could barely hold onto these thoughts, let alone the passing of time. He floated in and out of awareness in a constant haze, barely aware of what was happening.

He... this guy... the one who Asher thought was helping him but just turned out to be far worse, had kept him like this for... Asher didn't remember how long. Time passed like molasses, barely moving, but at the same time Asher would blink and the sun would be setting where it had been fully light out just a second ago.

_I live at 627 Riveter Street. Apartment 6C._

He still flinched every time that hand ran through his hair, except for when his body was so fuzzy that movement was an unattainable concept. He hated the feeling, of that stranger's hand always touching his head. When he could, he knew his face tensed up and tried to pull away, but a hand always dragged him back or a needle always pricked his skin and he was lost to the daze again, unable to pull away from the touch, which was starting to feel nicer, comparatively, to when he tried to pull away and got dragged backward, hair yanked so hard that in his oversensitive state it felt like his hair was being pulled straight out of his skull.

_I had a show tomorrow... yesterday... I had a show to perform._

Asher had no clue what day it was, and if he had the focus to ask the question he was sure the man wouldn't tell him. Asher tried to track the days through when he ate, but even trying to track that slipped away from them and by the time they were lucid enough to eat again -- be fed, but they took what they could get, no matter how belittled they felt by it -- they couldn't remember if they had eaten earlier that day or not.

_I didn't show up. They're going to be looking for me._

Some days, he seemed to be given a chance. He still didn't have his glasses so his surroundings were just as blurry, but his mind was clearer, he was more aware of parts of his body like his aching knees, and he could look around without feeling like his body was swimming in molasses. He had to be careful, he was picking that up, if he pulled away too fast or he didn't respond the way this person was expecting him to, Asher would be pulled back, held still, and his heart would leap in his throat, waiting for the prick of another needle that sometimes came, sometimes didn't. Asher pushed the limits of what he could do, and often spent an indeterminable amount of time back in that drugged, hazy space.

_Someone is looking for me._

Asher held onto that, the hope that someone had seen him be taken, someone had called the police and figured out where he went, somehow, they had to, right? He was going to be found.

_Right?_

There were days where desperation set in, and Asher was certain no one was coming for him. Those were the days that, when he was lucid, he tried to bolt the instant he was left alone for a second, or sometimes even when he wasn't. Running to the nearest window and throwing himself against it in desperate hope fueled by pure fear. But he was always dragged back and he always sunk back into that awful haze, but one that was getting more bearable all the time.

Because if he was in that haze, then at least he wasn't panicking over where he was and if people were coming to find him.

 _No one is coming to find me. No one is looking_.

_All there is... is here...?_

No, he couldn't start thinking like that, he couldn't slip into whatever this person was trying to force onto him, he wouldn't.

_My name is Asher Duvall. I live at 6... 627 Riveter Street..._

"Shh, pet," the man murmured, alerting Asher to the fact that he had been audibly mumbling, for how long he didn't know. "I don't want to hear that, do you understand?"

Asher's jaw shut slowly in confusion, then his body felt too heavy to try and open it again, never mind that he didn't know what kind of answer to give to those confusing and upsetting words.

"Good." The hand resumed stroking his hair, and it felt nicer than being yanked to the ground and having needles pricked in his skin, and it was better than panic, and it... there was nothing and it was better.


End file.
